


[Error 6008 - system shutdown imminent]

by Lutzz



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutzz/pseuds/Lutzz
Summary: Humans take years, if not decades, to learn how to cope with the seemingly indefinite spectrum that defines emotions.Androids have been introduced to them at most a few months ago.Let's just say things get quite messy.Or, where deviants learn that love is more than intertwined fingers, that freedom comes at the cost of peace of mind, and that facades and masks still haunt their daily lives.(A series of one-shots and snippets, varying in length and characters; tags will be listed as I post new chapters; individual trigger warnings at the top of each chapter, but listed in the tags as well.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	[Error 6008 - system shutdown imminent]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay- 'I' (my brother whom I've watched play- scratch that, forcefully made wait for me so I wouldn't miss a lick of this gorgeous, amazing game; love u bro) finished the game, and I was deeply unsatisfied, so here I am. Especially since we got Luther, Kara and Alice shot lol. Oops.  
> Anyway, a couple info to preface this.  
> \- Please check the TW at the beginning of each chapter. This most likely won't be fun, and I'll delve into heavy themes. Take care of yourselves.  
> \- About what inspired this, well... One of the recurring thoughts I've had while 'watching' the game is that deviants seem really well-adjusted. And I'm like dude- I've been alive for a while now and even I ain't that good with emotions. Controlling our feelings, learning how to understand and deal with them, it's fucking hard. I mean, look at temper tantrums in toddlers, or the sheer toxicity in middle schoolers. DBH showed us the 'good' side of deviants, the empathy, the kindness, and while I do believe they're more inclined to feel those than humans, negative emotions would probably be even more overwhelming for them. Anyway, that's what those OS will be about.  
> \- For the sake of this fic, deviants will feel pain, but regular androids (before deviancy) don't. It's kind of a grey area in the game, but it'd make sense for them to have the wonderful, full human experience.  
> \- The title of each chapter will be named after the character it focuses on. They're all standalone.  
> \- Prompts/characters you'd like to see in this/suggestions are welcome, and will be featured in this, provided I'm inspired by the idea. You can either send it to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/luluminos) or in a comment under this fic.  
> I believe that's it. Thank you if you've read this entirely!  
> TW for this are: self-harm, suicide

It starts with a day in the snow.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ," North says from his left, glaring at him like he's personally offended her. Given his track record, it wouldn't be too surprising. "It's freezing! How on earth are you not cold, especially wearing _that_?"

He's taken aback by the question. He figures she's only joking, if a bit curious, but it disturbs him nonetheless.

North is... cold?

He glances down, taking in the CyberLife jacket he's never shed. He glances at North; he can see her shivering underneath her thick, padded coat. A panel on the edge of his vision informs him it's currently 17° today. One of the coldest days they've had in Detroit in years.

And yet, Connor can't even feel the wind on his synthetic skin.

"Perhaps my body was built with the intent to withstand extreme temperatures." He says, despite the fact that he knows that he's barely more resilient than any given android. He hadn't been designed to be durable- but to be endlessly replaced. 

A simple way to keep the deviancy at bay with each reset.

"Eh," she snorts, and Connor would have normally scoffed at such a.. human display were it not for the uneasiness suddenly churning around his pump.

Was he defective?

"Lucky you, I guess." She continued through chattering teeth. "It sucks turning into a popsicle."

Connor can only swallow down the unpleasant feeling and nod.

* * *

He expects to forget about that _malfunction_ in his body, but the opposite happens.

It's all he can think about now.

Weeks pass, and Connor finds himself at the reception of New Jericho's current home base. Josh is talking about reinforcing the security, making sure identities are checked before letting anyone in, when two bloodied androids burst through the glass doors. 

One of them collapses right at their feet, the other going down to their knees as they try to support their friend, arms protectively wrapped around them. The kneeling one turns to them, and through the thirium and deep gashes on the android's face, Connor recognizes an WR400. An eye is missing as the other weeps blood and saline, leaving dark streaks on her cheeks. The remaining brown orb snaps towards him, and a disfigured hand stretches out in the same direction, reaching for him.

" _P-Please-_ W-We w-were--" She chokes, the android she still holds onto slipping from her grasp. She tries to adjust her grip, but the ex-Traci's eye goes wide in an instant, and her mouth opens slightly.

A few seconds pass in silence, enough for Connor to join her on the floor and lean forward, until a piercing, mechanical scream tears through his audio units. The sound is corrupted, losing its human edge to leave only the terrible whine of a dying machine. He clutches his hands other his ears, pointlessly, and notices Josh doing the same besides him.

The screaming android lurches forward, hand still outstretched as she falls into him. He catches her, one hand still over his ear as the other holds tightly onto her. Josh is at his side almost instantly. 

He deposits the now unconscious WR400 onto the ground, right next to her fallen friend, and moves to stand up when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

He turns to see Josh frowning worriedly at him, his lips moving quickly and forming words Connor's processors are too sluggish to comprehend, for unknown reasons.

Or maybe the blinking, red warning panels swimming in front of his eyes might tell him exactly why. 

**[Warning - {BIOCOMPON-**

He dismisses them in favor of his increasingly frantic friend. 

Sound slowly returns to him, distant and muted at first, but loud enough to be heard again after a few more seconds.

"-nor? Connor!" The hand on his shoulder is now shaking him slightly, and Connor notices there's blue on his other hand.

"Yes? I'm sorry, Josh, it seems the HR400's volume momentarily stunned my audio units." He calmly says, meeting the other's concerned gaze, before returning to stare at the two injured androids. His LED spins yellow for a moment- at least he thinks so. Is that red reflected in the thiri- "I've informed the infirmary of the situation. I believe it's best if we wait here rather than-"

"Jesus, Connor..."

Connor closes his mouth, looking at Josh. "Yes...? Is something the matter?" 

His friend looks shocked, eyes darting between his face and...

His stomach?

Connor almost looks down before Josh's voice interrupts him. 

"Can you- Can you really not feel it?"

Connor tilts his head slightly. "Feel? Feel what? I'm afraid I don't-" This time he looks down.

And he notices blue all over his front, rapidly seeping from an open wound in the middle of his abdomen.

It's pooling around his knees, and mingling with the WR400’s own blood.

His hand moves to cover the gash, as though hiding it would fix it.

It's not like he feels it, anyway.

Josh looks torn between horrified and suspicious, eyeing the injury with a worried glint in his gaze. Connor feels the strangest need to appease him- to deny all defects in him.

"Ah. M-Maybe," he stumbles over the word. 

He never stumbles.

"Maybe it's just shock." He smiles easily at Josh, slipping behind a facade as something that _can't_ be panic threatens to drown him. "I should get it fixed before it starts hurting too much." 

Josh nods, eyes still full of concern and hints of confusion. He doesn't say anything.

The WR400 murmurs streams of _'it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts,'_ curling into herself. 

Connor looks at her, expecting to feel empathy. 

There's only a cold pang of jealousy.

His hand tightens around the wound.

The medics arrive soon after.

* * *

There are shears in his hand.

There is the _snip snip_ and _snap_ , _crack_ of fracturing plastic.

**[Warning - {BIOCOMPONENT #6843j} damaged]**

**[Warning - {BIOCOMPONENT #5489d} damaged]**

Sumo whines from the bedroom, sometimes clawing on a wooden door.

Blue drips from a round table, splashing on his bare feet as the liquid hits the ground.

His left arm is nothing but severed wires and cracked, white chassis. The skin has peeled back to his shoulder, and hints of flesh remain on fingers that have not yet been severed.

**[Warning - {BIOCOMPONENT #5495d} damaged]**

Another liquid, this one clear and pure, mixes with the blue underneath as he works. Mutterings fall endlessly from numb lips.

A numb face.

A numb body.

If he digs just a little deeper, maybe-

If he scratches away a little more skin, maybe he'll-

The tearing noise continues.

The whining drones on.

Until a door slams open. 

"Connor?" A gruff voice calls out, and Connor's audio units pick up on the worry concealed there. The slight panic in the breathlessness. "Are you in here? They've been looking for-"

The figure stops in the living room. Hank Anderson drops his bag as he sways on the spot, a hand clasped over his mouth. A sharp intake of breath.

" _Jesus Christ..._ "

The detective staggers towards him, but he doesn't stop. His arm jolts as he rips a component out in a spray of thirium. The plastic piece falls on the table, right next to the other ones.

**[Error - {BIOCOMPONENT #6843j} stopped responding]**

**[Rebooting...]**

**[Rebooting failed]**

**[Warning - {BIOCOMPONENT #6508t} damaged]**

A hand tears the shears away from him, taking several steps back and placing a placating hand between the two of them. Connor doesn't look up.

"O-Okay, okay... " Hank begins, a tremble in his voice that the android has rarely heard, "I don't know what's going on with you, but-"

He exhales shakily, running a hand over his face. "But Con- what the fuck?! What are you doing? What- What's wrong? And that shit you pulled at-"

_Crack_

His hand digs into the mangled arm, now tearing at thirium lines, and he tears and he tea?rs _and he t3@rs @?nd h3tear5f#0rs_%#7*e+?\\#te@?#%1?01s_

**[Error]**

**[Err0r]**

**[Sy5t%m - S+R3S54%# L?E7E &S AT 9?3#*]**

**[Processing err0r...]**

**[Pr0c3§sing f@il#d]**

**[3r4#r]**

**[E?ro4?#%]**

"STOP! God, what are you _DOING_? Connor-! _CONNOR!_ " 

Hands, warm hands he can't feel are pulling at his wrists. 

But it's pointless. Hank is human.

Connor is not.

He pushes the detective away from him violently, standing up and swaying like a drunk man. His arm hangs limply by his side.

Hank moves away from the counter he's been shoved into with a grunt, but he keeps his distance. He raises his hands again, and makes himself smaller.

The very same mannerisms are in his safety protocols - **how to deal with dangerous, unst?able suspects, earn their t4ust.**

**(Only +o ge?t shot d0wn r1 &gh+ @f+?3r#?**

"Okay Connor," Hank swallows thickly, his hands trembling and his face twisted with what Connor deems is an excessive amount of concern. "Just tell me what's going on, okay, kid? I'm sure we can figure this-"

"I'm a deviant."

Hank looks startled and confused for a moment, before deciding to roll with it.

"Yeah- Yeah you are, Connor. It's- It's a good thing, you know that, right?"

"I'm a deviant."

"Connor, what-?"

"I'm a deviant, _right?_ "

This time, Hank is stunned into silence. He looks at him strangely, trying to find a new angle-

"I'm a deviant, right? Right? Right? _Rightghtghtghtght-_ "

The word is stuck on repeat, and Connor forcibly snaps his jaw closed to stop any more sounds from escaping him.

Hank now looks downright horrified. "Kid, come on." He pleads, stepping forward, "Please, tell me what's going on. We'll solve this, okay?"

Connor just looks at him, his LED spinning an endless shade of red. His arm continuously drips blue. His eyes stay a dull brown, unseeing yet processing.

"I-" He begins, voice cracking and full of static. It's barely a whisper, but in the quiet of that dead house, it could just as well be a shout. "I can't feel anything."

Connor finally meets Hank's eyes, and the tears run anew.

"Everyone feels, and I-" He starts, mouth quivering. A white hand tightens around his injured arm, in what should be a painful grip.

But it's not.

There's nothing.

"I c-can't." He chokes out, legs finally giving out as he buries his face in his hands. He sobs, face pressing against the cold kitchen floor.

"I _can't_! Why can't I? _Why?!_ " He shouts, fingers digging into his eye sockets. 

There's a hand on his back, and Connor takes the opportunity to grab onto Hank, to fist his hands into the man's jacket as wide, frightened eyes stare into heartbroken ones. Connor leans his face closer.

"If I can't feel-" He whispers, "Then what am I?"

Connor rises suddenly, a faraway look on his face. "What am I, Hank?"

"Not a machine. Not a deviant." He laughs, a terrible, wet, crackling sound that fills the quiet with tension. "What if- I don't belong anywhere?"

A hand creeps towards his stomach, where his pump rests heavily. He can't feel it, but- should he peel back the skin-

"What if I'm nothing?"

A circle now sits at the center of his palm. The edges of his fingers hook themselves on the rim, fingernails catching and damaging the plastic there. 

Hank steps closer, only a foot away from him, reaching out. "Okay, Con, let's just- Let's just figure this out, okay? You're not nothing," he pleads, "Connor, you're--"

"A monster." He cuts off, voice even, but quiet. "Don't they all say it?"

There's a beat of silence, and his hand closes around the circular pump. He meets Hank's fearful eyes again, letting his own gaze show resignation and warmth, rather than horror.

"I'm sorry, Hank."

He rips the regulator out.

**[E?r4o-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty dark. They won't all be so heavy, but, as I said, expect some not-so-fun times. The ending is relatively 'open,' it doesn't have to end with Connor's death, you get to believe what you prefer :)  
> Thanks for reading, and don't hesitate to leave a review if you've 'liked' (read: got your heart broken by) it.


End file.
